By the Pricking of My Thumbs
by dnachemlia
Summary: NFA WWC #49 Random prompt - Jimmy Palmer/Timothy McGee/save me. Jimmy has a secret that he never thought would be useful on the job. He was wrong.
1. Chapter 1

NFA WWC #49- Catch Up (#35 chosen)

Pairings: none

Characters: Jimmy, Tim, Tony, Ziva; smattering of Ducky, Gibbs, Abby

Genres: Supernatural/Horror

Warnings: Violence, Language, season seven/eight-ish

Summary: – NFA Random Generator prompt: Jimmy Palmer / Timothy McGee / save me. Jimmy has a secret that he never thought would be useful in his current job. He was wrong.

A/N: This is all Sergeant Conley's fault ;D

* * *

XXX

_By the pricking of my thumbs_

_Something wicked this way comes_

_MacBeth__,_ Act 4, Scene 1

_Thursday_

"Hey, Probie, how was your check-up?"

Tony had been waiting for McGee to get back so he could tease him about his annual physical. It was something that always had annoyed the man in the past, and an annoyed McGee was always entertaining. Ziva looked up with interest, obviously waiting to hear McGee's report as well.

"Fine. Ducky says I'm the picture of health," replied McGee before sitting down at his desk and starting typing away at his keyboard.

"Yeah, well considering his usual patients, that's not much of an endorsement, McPaleface."

McGee huffed in annoyance. "There's nothing wrong with me Tony. I just don't spend too much time out in the sun. I might even be in better shape than you now. How was _your_ last checkup?"

Tony decided to ignore that last comment, as well as the soft snort of laughter from Ziva.

"You think you're in better shape than me, huh? Prove it: this Saturday, you and me, _mano a mano_."

"Doing what?"

"Basketball."

"Forget it, Tony."

"Come on, McGee, a little fresh air and sunshine will do you good. Or are you worried I'll prove to you just how wrong you are?"

"No, I'm worried that you, being the ridiculously competitive person that you are, will turn this into some crazy no-holds barred contest that will wind up with one or both of us getting hurt."

"He does have a point," said Ziva. "You do tend to forget the rules of the game in such situations."

"Fine, we'll have a referee, make it more official."

"Who are you going to get to be the referee?" asked Ziva.

"Palmer."

"What?" asked the man in question as he stepped off the elevator and walked towards them, file in hand.

"You're our chaperone, Palmer. McGee's worried I might get a little rough."

"Rough…?"

"Basketball. One on one," explained McGee. "Tony wants to have a little contest this weekend."

"Well, uh, sounds good to me. What time?"

"Not helping, Jimmy," he muttered while Tony grinned.

"How about 0900? We can even use the courts at the park near McGeek's place, so he doesn't have far to walk wounded."

"That works for me." Palmer turned to McGee, who was patently ignoring the other two men. "That OK with you, McGee?"

"Sure, fine, whatever. Did you need something, Palmer?" he asked, indicating the folder.

"Oh, yes, sorry, just the toxicology reports from Sergeant Parsons. It looks like he was quite under the influence."

"Ah, good, an easy one for once. Thanks, Jimmy," said Tony as he grabbed the file and went back to his desk.

"No problem. I-."

"Need to go get Ducky. Gear up, we've got a dead Marine," said Gibbs as he strode through the bullpen to his desk and grabbed his own gear.

"Oh, right. On my way." He ran to the elevator as the agents fell in behind their leader and headed out.

XXX

"Well this is weird," observed Tony as they pulled into the driveway of their destination. The house was old, classic Victorian in design, and desperately in need of a new coat of paint. The storm clouds that had gathered in the sky above the structure added a note of creepiness to the scene.

"That's one word for it," said McGee. "What was our Marine doing here?"

"Fixing up the place," replied Gibbs. "He bought it about a month ago. He didn't come home last night and his wife called the neighbor to have him check. He found the body, called the local LEOs, and they called us."

"And the fun just never stops," snarked Tony as they headed towards the house.

They were almost to the front steps when they heard the arrival of the ME's truck. They waited for Ducky and Palmer to join them before entering the silent building.

The team stepped into what appeared to be the living room of the house. It was empty except for a few cans of paint and buckets of drywall, plastic, a few tools and, of course, the body.

The Marine lay on his back, limbs outstretched. There was dark-rimmed hole in the center of his forehead and a pool of blood under his head. No weapon was in evidence.

Ducky bent down over the body to examine the wound.

"It's not a contact wound, Jethro. There's no distortion of the entrance or stippling."

"All right, check the rest of the house, then photos, sketch and bag and tag. I'll go talk to the neighbor."

"On it, Boss," said Tony with a grin. "I'll search the ground floor, Ziva can take the second floor, Probie, you take the basement. It should be right up your alley: nice, dark, out of the sun." Tony winked at Ziva and she just shook her head.

McGee rolled his eyes and turned to walk back through the house, looking for the stairs, which he found near the back of the kitchen. He opened the door and reached for the light switch. The bulb at the bottom of the stairs flickered to life.

"Great…"

He carefully made his way down the stairs and looked around as he descended. The corners of the basement were barely illuminated by a second bulb in the center of the room, but he could see it was absolutely empty. He made a quick circuit and turned to head back up the stairs when he noticed the door had swung shut. Suddenly, the lights flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness.

"Cute, Tony, real cute," he muttered as he tried to feel his way back to the stairs. The darkness surrounding him seemed to grow thicker with each step and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. He tried to move faster but the sense of claustrophobia increased and he felt the beginnings of a panic attack. Just as he felt the banister with the tips of his fingers, he experienced the sensation of something settling onto his back. He bit back a yelp and ran up the steps, not caring how he looked. He just wanted out of that basement.

He hit the door with a bang and stumbled into the kitchen, checking his back to see what had latched onto him, but there was nothing there.

"What's a matter, McGee, was that basement just too _sca-wy_?" asked Tony, mockingly.

"No, I just couldn't see, since _someone_ turned off the lights," he snapped as he glared at the older man.

A brief puzzled expression crossed Tony's face before he laughed. "Wasn't me. I guess the wiring in this place isn't all that great."

"Whatever. There's nothing down there. We better get back to work or Gibbs will have both our hides."

Both men went back to their tasks, never noticing that Palmer was staring at them, an uneasy look on his face.

_Friday_

The case turned out to be another easy one. The dead Marine, according to scuttlebutt, had been having an affair with his wife's sister, and when Gibbs questioned the wife she broke down and confessed to the murder. All that was left was the paperwork. By 1800, the team was ready to head out.

McGee stretched and groaned as he reached back to rub the base of his neck. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling of something touching him at that spot since yesterday, and even repeated washings failed to eliminate it. He supposed at this point it was just all in his head, an unpleasant souvenir from his reaction to being shut in the dark basement.

He started to gather up his things and was interrupted by Tony.

"Don't forget, McGee. Tomorrow, it's showdown time. 0900."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there," he grumbled, but in the back of his mind he was wondering if he would. He was much more tired than he expected to be after such an easy day, but he figured a good night's sleep would cure all. He headed for the elevator and almost ran into Jimmy as he exited.

"Hey, McGee. All ready for the big game tomorrow?"

"Does everyone here have a one-track mind?" muttered Tim under his breath. "Yeah, Palmer, I'll be there. I'm trusting you to keep a eye on Tony, though. Don't let his enthusiasm get the best of him."

"You mean, 'best of me', don't you, McSpoilsport?" Tony said as he joined McGee at the elevator.

"Keep telling yourself that, Tony," he said with more confidence than he felt. "See you tomorrow, Palmer."

"See you…McGee." Tony and McGee stepped into the elevator and neither man saw the look that crossed the Autopsy Gremlin's face.

_Saturday_

Tony arrived at the park a few minutes early to warm up, and was surprised to see that Palmer was already there.

"Hey, Jimmy. You ready to help me show Timmy what 'in shape' means?"

"I…guess. Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you notice anything…_strange_ about McGee?"

"McGee _is_ strange, Palmer. Be more specific."

"Just…nothing, never mind."

Tony shot him a look that clearly said "_then why did you bring it up?"_ and went back to stretching. By 0900, he was ready for the game. He took a few practice shots before sitting down to wait.

By 0910, Tony was starting to get annoyed. McGee hadn't shown up or at least called to say he'd be late.

"I think he chickened out. What do you say we go to his place and drag Elf Lord down here? "

"Sure, OK." They walked the block and a half to McGee's apartment building and went inside. When they reached his apartment, Tony banged on the door.

"Wake up, Probie! Time to take your humiliation like a man." A neighbor poked her head out and glared at them while Palmer gave her an apologetic smile and shrugged. She rolled her eyes and disappeared from view. Tony banged on the door again, but there was still no response. Finally he pulled out a spare key.

"Where did you get that?"

"Ziva. She said Tim got tired of us picking his lock and gave her a spare. I figured he'd try to back out so I borrowed it in case we had to come get him."

"Oh."

Tony opened the door and stepped into the quiet apartment. McGee had finally moved to a bigger place, but the layout was similar to his old apartment. The major difference was the space for a couch and the TV in the living room. After calling out McGee's name and receiving no answer, Tony checked the corner of the room behind the rows of bookcases but saw no sign of the younger man. His computer was off and his books were neatly stacked on the desk. Tony noticed a thin layer of dust on the top of the books and nodded: McGee hadn't had time this week and obviously hadn't done any reading last night. Tony headed for the bedroom and when he reached the doorway, he froze.

McGee was laying on his back, with one arm hanging of the bed, his fingers just inches away from his open cell phone. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and he was breathing much too slowly. Tony hurried to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Probie?"

McGee stirred and his eyes slowly opened to half-mast. He stared at Tony for a few moments before responding weakly.

"To..ny? Wha…what are…you doing…here?"

"You missed our game, Tim. I was…I'm here to check on you. What happened?"

"I…tired. Sorry." He closed his eyes again.

"Probie!"

McGee didn't even open his eyes when he answered. "Another…time. Need to…sleep."

"Damn it. Palmer?" Tony turned to look for the other man and saw him standing in the doorway with a surprising expression of horror on his face. His expression quickly cleared when he saw Tony staring at him. He immediately walked over to the bed to take a closer look at McGee.

"Any idea of what's wrong with him?" asked Tony.

Palmer touched McGee's forehead and snatched his hand back.

"What?"

"He's cold. If it was the flu or something like that he'd have a fever." He put two fingers against the side of McGee's neck. "Heart rate is way too slow and his pulse is weak. We need to get him to a hospital."

"No," moaned McGee. "No hospital. Just need…sleep."

"Don't argue, Probie. You're going."

XXX

Palmer drove as Tony made the call to Gibbs.

"_Yeah?"_

"Boss, it's Tony. I'm on the way to Bethesda with McGee."

"_Game get that rough?"_

"We never got started. He's sick, _really _sick. I'm...I don't know what happened."

"_On my way."_

He closed the phone and turned to Jimmy.

"Do you have any idea what could have caused this?"

The younger man hesitated before replying. "No…not really. Maybe Dr. Mallard would have a better idea but…I've never seen something like this before."

"Ducky said he was perfectly fine just two days ago. What could hit him that fast?" Tony glanced at Palmer and sighed. "I know: you have no idea. Damn it. Stuff like this just doesn't happen to Probie."

"I don't think it happens to many people."

Both men lapsed into silence, their thoughts on their teammate in the vehicle ahead of them.

XXX

Several hours later, the whole group was gathered in the ER waiting area, anxious for news about their teammate. Gibbs and Ziva sat in silence, while Tony paced and Abby chattered, trying to assure the rest that McGee would be fine. Palmer sat off to one side, watching the other members of the group. The others didn't seem to notice the tense but puzzled expression he wore, as if waiting for the great reveal of the mystery.

Finally Ducky entered the waiting room and they all immediately surrounded him.

"What's going on, Duck? How is he?"

"Have they figured out what was wrong with Probie?"

"He's going to be OK, right? Of course he will, it's Tim, nothing ever happens to him."

"Yes, of course he will. All of this worry will be for nothing, yes?"

"Uh, Dr. Mallard? Are _you_ OK?"

Ducky sagged slightly under the barrage of questions and they all fell silent when they took in his expression.

"Timothy is receiving the best supportive care at the moment. He is experiencing bradycardia, and is beginning to show signs of hypoxemia as well which is most likely caused by his low rate of respiration. They have him on supplemental oxygen and are monitoring his O2 levels. His body temperature has also dropped. Unfortunately, unless we are able to determine a cause for his current condition, I fear it will progress to the point of being irreversible.

"In English, Duck?"

Ducky sighed deeply and delivered the attending physician's prognosis.

"I'm afraid…that Timothy is dying."

* * *

Next up - Palmer's POV.

Reviews are appreciated, even if it make take a while to get and respond to them.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: _**By the Pricking of My Thumbs**_, Part 2  
Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda

Other stuff: See previous chapter. Yep, still Sergeant Conley's fault

* * *

_The question that sometimes drives me hazy:_

_Am I or the others crazy?_

_-Albert Einstein_

_Saturday_

_"I'm afraid…that Timothy is dying."_

The silence that followed Ducky's statement was, to Jimmy, almost as bad as the words themselves. He expected exclamations of denial, or weak attempts at levity, but this…this was _horrible_.

Finally the silence was spoken by Gibbs, speaking so low that Jimmy almost didn't catch it.

"What the hell happened, Duck?"

"It pains me to say that we don't yet know, Jethro. Preliminary tests have turned up nothing. I asked them collected duplicate samples for analysis in our own lab, hoping that, if it is a drug or some other poison, that we may be able to pin it down. Right now all we can do is wait and hope that we can determine the cause of Timothy's current condition."

Jimmy could se that the M.E. was devastated by his inability to do so thus far. He could also see the guilt behind that devastation, and he wished he could tell the older man it wasn't his fault, but Jimmy doubted he would be believed. Dr. Mallard could be stubborn that way.

"But…but we'll find something, right? I know we will, just wait until I get started, me and my babies will figure this out, and...Come on! We're not giving up this easy, right?"

"'Course not, Abby. Probie is not going to die, not on my watch, and I think Gibbs might have something to say about that, too." Tony was trying to act as if he totally confident in what he was saying, but the opposite was painfully obvious.

"May we see him?" asked Ziva. She was, as always, much harder to read than the others, but Jimmy could see that she was quite shaken by the news.

"They are doing a few more diagnostic tests on him right now, but as soon as those are done and he is sufficiently recovered from the procedures, his attending physician informed me that we will be able to visit him. He believes that it would be beneficial for Timothy's mental state to have friends nearby.

"Does he know?" asked Jimmy before he could stop himself.

"We have not said anything, directly, no, and he has not been fully conscious for much of the time he has been here, so it is possible he does not know. We would prefer to keep it that way for now."

"Uh, yes, Doctor Mallard, understood."

The sound of approaching footsteps distracted the group from Jimmy's faux pas and they turned to see a doctor walking towards them with a small cooler and clipboard in his hands. He stopped in front of Abby. "Ms. Sciuto?" She gave a shaky nod. "Dr. Abernathy. I believe these are for you. Please sign here." She took the clipboard and hastily scrawled her signature on the form before accepting the Styrofoam container. He then turned to the rest of the group.

"I'm guessing that Dr. Mallard has told you what we know so far. Rest assured, we are doing _everything_ we can to slow Agent McGee's deterioration and determine the cause. We're currently checking for all known viruses, although the symptoms are certainly atypical, as well as bacteria infections, heavy metal poisoning, and other toxins. We've sent samples to the pathologist to check for malignancies and other abnormalities, but so far we've only obtained negative results. We don't know what this is, yet, but I'm confident we will."

"How much time does he have to you to figure this out?" asked Gibbs.

"We have him stabilized and the care he is receiving has slowed the process-."

"A number, Doc. A month? A week?"

"There are a lot of unknowns here, and I really don't want to speculate…" he caught Gibbs' glare and sighed. "Possibly as long as a week, but realistically, maybe two to three days. We really just don't know." He surveyed the group of anguished faces in front of him. "In the meantime, we've arranged for someone to be allowed to be with him at all times. You may work that out amongst yourselves, but it should be no more that two people at a time. It can be overwhelming for a patient in his condition to be exposed to more than that. Again, I am sorry that I can't tell you more."

"But as soon as you do know something-."

"You will be the first to know, guaranteed. Dr. Mallard, thank you for your help. Ms. Sciuto, I'll look forward to hearing from you."

"You will. I'm going to figure this out. For Timmy."

Abernathy smiled faintly and headed back down the hall. They all returned their attention to Ducky and he nodded.

"I'll take you to Timothy."

XXX

They decided Abby and Ziva would go first so Abby could get back to the lab. As the rest waited in the hallway, Jimmy continued his study of the group as his own guilt gnawed at him.

_I should have told them…what I saw._ He could almost hear his father's response to that line of thought.

_They wouldn't have believed you. Then where would you be?_

The worst part about it was that Jimmy didn't know if he believed himself. What he had seen that day at the house, and then the next day in the bullpen, had seemed like a glitch; a faint stirring of imagination and nothing more. But then, at McGee's apartment, it had been much clearer, if only for a moment. Unfortunately he _still_ didn't have any idea what it was. It was unlike anything he had seen before, and that was saying something…

Finally, Abby and Ziva emerged from McGee's room. It was obvious that both women were upset, but Abby seemed to have focused her grief into finding out what was wrong. She announced that she was going back to the lab, that she didn't have a minute to lose. Ziva merely leaned against the wall and bowed her head, waiting for orders.

Gibbs and Ducky went in next, and when they came out, Jimmy felt even worse. Gibbs wore an expression he had only see a very few times on the man's face. It was the same look he had seen after Agent Todd had been killed, and then, after Tony's car had been blown up and they all thought the man was dead. It was a look that said Gibbs was at a loss. His internal compass which normally drove him to his task was gone, or at least temporarily out of order, and he was floundering. It was not a pleasant sight in the least.

Ducky looked like someone had kicked him and stolen something that he believed he could never get back. It scared Jimmy to see the two strongest people he knew in such a state. He couldn't even imagine what Tony was feeling.

Jimmy hesitantly followed Tony as he walked into McGee's hospital room and once inside he stared at the pale form lying on the bed in front of them and felt his heart sink. McGee looked even worse than before: the skin was now almost gray and the dark circles under his eyes had deepened, and Jimmy could see a faint purplish tinge at the tips of McGee's fingers. The medical equipment surrounding McGee didn't help matters any, as the monitors recorded the too-slow beat of his heart and other vitals which Jimmy could see were not at the levels they should be. The only positive thing about what he was seeing was that whatever Jimmy had thought he had seen before was no longer visible. He didn't know if he should be more or less worried.

Finally Tony spoke, and his voice echoed the worry the whole team was feeling, even though it was obvious that Tony was trying to hide it.

"Hey, Probie," he said, and took a step closer to the prone figure. McGee's eyes opened slightly and he stared, groggily, at the older man before responding.

"Hey…" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Just so you know, you still owe me a game."

His mouth twisted into faint smile. "Don't…think I'll be…able to make…it."

"Of course you will. You'll be fine."

"Doc seems…to think differently."

"Hey, what does he know? Gibbs says you'll be fine. He's the only one you should listen to, right?"

McGee remained silent.

"Give Abby and the rest of the lab rats time to figure out what you were exposed to and we'll get you back on your feet in no time. Docs will fix you right up."

"Tony…please. Just…stop." McGee's voice was growing weaker.

"Not going to happen, Tim. You should know that by now."

"Not even…to let me…die in peace?"

"Not going to let you die, period. Are we clear?"

"We…clear."

"Good. Get some sleep, OK? I'll be back later. We'll…" Tony's voice trailed off as both men noticed that Tim was asleep.

"See ya," Tony whispered as his voice finally cracked and he walked out the door. Jimmy turned to follow and a flash of movement caught his eye. He stopped and slowly turned his head.

What he had seen before was back: a dark shape swirled around McGee's shoulders, working its way down his chest and around his back out of sight before reappearing around his head. It pulsed in time with the beeping of the heart monitor and for a brief moment Jimmy thought he could hear a faint whisper of words he couldn't discern. The shape hovered around McGee's face before eventually retreating and vanishing from sight.

Jimmy let out a breath he hadn't realized he been holding and backed towards the door. He _hadn't_ imagined it, but that still left one major problem: he had no idea what it was or what to do about it.

He intended to find out.

When he exited the room, Gibbs was still there, waiting for him.

"Palmer."

"Agent Gibbs?" He was sure the lead agent could hear his heart hammering in his chest.

"Tony left, but I don't think he's going to get far. I'm staying. Make sure he gets home and doesn't do anything stupid, OK?"

"Of…of course."

Gibbs turned and walked back into McGee's room. Jimmy wanted to give him a warning, but once again his father's voice stopped him.

_He won't believe you. You know what you have to do, Jimmy. You're on your own._

When Jimmy got to his car Tony was waiting for him. He unlocked the doors and climbed in, waiting for Tony to do the same. The older man was uncharacteristically silent as Jimmy started the car and started back towards McGee's place. He waited for Tony to say something, anything, but he never said a word. Finally Jimmy spoke.

"Tony? Are you OK?"

Tony snorted and replied in a biting tone. "Oh, sure, just fine. My partner is _dying_, and no one has a clue _why_. I'm just…peachy." He slammed his fist against his knee and Jimmy jumped in surprise. "_Damn it!_ He's younger than I am. This isn't supposed to happen. He's supposed to be the one who gets a normal, _long_ life, and…" He turned away from Jimmy but he could still hear the anguish in the man's voice. "It's not…it's not right."

"No, it's not. Tony?"

"What?"

"I…" He wanted so desperately to tell what he had seen, but the caution that had been driven into him since he was a child won out. "I really hope they figure this out soon."

Tony turned to him and gave him a small, apologetic smile. "Yeah, me, too, Jimmy. Me too."

XXX

After dropping Tony off at his car and obtaining assurances that he would go straight home and call before going anywhere, Jimmy drove back to his own apartment. Once inside, he went straight to his bedroom closet and pulled out a small footlocker. He dragged it to the middle of the room and opened it, staring at the contents before reaching inside and pulling out several books. He had never shared the fact that he possessed these books with anyone outside his family, nor the reason for having them. He couldn't even imagine the response of his teammates if they learned his secret.

_Normals don't understand, James_, his father had said. _And what they don't understand, they mock, or fear, or even eliminate. You don't want to be in that situation, son, trust me._

_Normals._ His family, and others like them, used the name for people who couldn't see what they could, specifically entities, spirits, and other things considered "supernatural". Jimmy knew, as his family had known for generations, such things were very real. Asa child, he had listened to the tales of "_ghoulies_ _and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties_" and "_things that go bump in the night"_. He had quickly learned that the things _he_ saw, most people could not, and the tradition of secrecy carried on. As a teenager, he had read the first person accounts, legends and folklore his family had collected in order to learn more about the things he could and had seen. He learned that, for the most part, spirits were harmless, and those that were not were so rare as not to be a concern, or else easily dealt with. These spirits were also easy to see and to distinguish from the living.

The thing he had seen in McGee's room was something different. He was sure it was the cause of McGee's illness, but unfortunately he didn't know what exactly it was or what specifically it was doing. He hoped to find something he might have missed in these books, the most regarded volumes from his family's collection. He needed to find information to the nature of the entity that was currently attacking his colleague, and then he had to figure out how to destroy it and help McGee.

Several hours later, he had found very little. He knew he needed to go to a source with a much larger range of information, but he decided that, if nothing else, he could at least narrow the possibilities by getting a better look at the entity itself.

He reached into the locker again and withdrew a wooden box. He opened it and stared down at the object within. It was a flat iron disk, the size of a camera lens cap, with a penny-sized clear pane of polished diamond in the center. Both sides of the disk were inscribed with symbols from a language that hadn't been spoken in five hundred years. It had been made by one of Jimmy's ancestors in order to see things even his "enhanced" sight could not discern completely. Jimmy had never used it, but his father had explained how it worked.

He drove back to the hospital and when he got to McGee's room he saw Ziva sitting next to the bed with a book in her hands, reading aloud. She paused when she saw him enter and gave him a weak smile.

"Hello Jimmy. Tony should be here soon for his turn. I hope you can…keep him in line."

"I, uh, I'll try."

She looked back down at McGee, whose eyes were barely open. "Look who is here, Tim." He didn't respond and she stared at him sadly for a few moments before turning to Jimmy. "He…he is not doing very well. I really hope…Abby has not had any luck yet but…"

Jimmy stared at the woman and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He wanted so much to tell her that he was working on it, too, and maybe he'd have better luck, but he couldn't. He knew what would happen, especially if he failed.

"Why don't you take a break, Ziva? I'll keep him company."

She considered his suggestion and eventually nodded.

"Thank you, Jimmy. I will be right back." She rose from her chair, placed the book on the stand next to the bed, and left the room.

"Hey…McGee. I hope you can hear me. I'm going to figure this out, OK? I promise."

McGee's gaze slowly tracked towards the younger man and those expressive eyes fixed on him. Jimmy didn't have to hear the man speak to know what he wanted.

_Save me…_

Jimmy removed the disk from his pocket, removed his glasses and held it up to his eye. Through the hole, he finally got a clear view of the entity, and he almost dropped the disk in horror at what he was seeing. He fumbled and managed to catch it before it hit the floor, and he took another look.

This…_creature_ was unlike anything he had ever imagined.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and he was roughly spun around to face his attacker. It was Ziva.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"I-."

She grabbed the disk from him. "What is this?"

"Ziva, please, I can explain…well, actually-."

"Why were you…?" She looked at it and then, before he could stop her, she looked through it at McGee. Here reaction was immediate and he barely managed to catch the disk as she flung it towards the floor.

"_What the hell was that?"_

"Ziva, I-."

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him close enough that they were practically nose to nose.

"Explain. Now."

"I…OK, but not here. Please."

She glared at him for a moment before letting go and stepping back. "Fine. Let's go." She started to walk out of the room just as Tony appeared in the doorway. He stared at the both of them for a few seconds.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. I need to speak to Palmer for a few minutes, alone. We will be right back."

Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he glanced at McGee. "Is he…?"

"He…" Her expression softened slightly. "He has not improved. I am sorry. Please, excuse me for a few minutes."

Tony glanced back and forth between the two and finally gave Jimmy a look that said _"I'm getting the full story, later"_ and returned his attention to the silent figure on the bed.

Ziva grabbed Jimmy and practically dragged him down the hall to a closet, opened the door and, finding small room unoccupied, shoved him inside and closed the door. He flicked on the light and found himself once again nose to nose with the irate Israeli woman.

"Tell me. Now." She reached into his pocket and pulled out the disk. "What is this?"

"It…it allows someone to see things they normally can't. You saw it, that thing on McGee, didn't you?"

"I…I do not know _what_ I saw."

"Makes two of us." He saw a flash of fury in her eyes and tried to explain.

"You remember the case in that weird old house a couple of days ago? And McGee went down into the basement to search?"

"Yes, but what-?"

"When he came back up, there was something with him. I barely got a look at it before it disappeared, and I wasn't even sure I _had_ seen it. I saw it again, just briefly, before he left work yesterday, and then this morning, when we went to McGee's apartment. I saw it again. It was just a shadow, but I was pretty sure. And then later, when we went to see him, it looked like it was gone, but just before I left I saw it and that time I knew something was definitely there."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Who would have believed me? I wasn't even sure _what_ I was seeing! I went home to read up on it, but I didn't find anything, so I decided to come back and get a better look. With this." He held up the disk. "It allows _me_ to see things better, and a Nor…a regular person can see things that are really there but they wouldn't normally see at all."

"What sort of…things?" He turned away but she forced him to look at her again. "Tell me."

"Spirits and, uh, other supernatural entities." She raised an eyebrow and he sighed. "Yes, I see dead people, among other things. I always have, and no, I'm not nuts, contrary to common belief."

She stepped back and stared at him while he waited for the explosion. It never came.

"I believe you."

"You do? But-."

"Part of my training. Not everything can always be easily perceived. But I do not understand why you did not at least try to tell someone."

"I told you, no one would have believed me. Nor…regular people…well, _most_ regular people don't accept stuff like this straight off the bat. They would have said I was crazy, or worse, and locked me up. Then I would have had _no_ chance to help McGee."

"Do you think you can help him now?"

"I…yes. I have an idea, but I need to get started, and-."

"I will help."

"Ziva-."

"No! I saw that…thing, what it was doing to McGee. I want to kill it, whatever it takes."

"OK, but first we have to identify it, and I _do_ know how to do that, at least. After that…you said you'll do whatever it takes? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"OK. Let's go." He opened the door and they stepped out into the hall, ignoring the strange looks they were getting. He headed for the exit and she grabbed his arm.

"Wait. I…I want to check on McGee. Then we can go."

"What about Tony?"

"I will handle him. Come on."

They walked back to McGee's room and Tony turned as they entered.

"Everything OK?"

"As good as can be expected. How is he?"

"I don't think he's really awake, but I'll keep talking to him. It's—"

"What you do best. Or you could read to him." She pointed to the book.

"I'll pass. '_Still Life with Crows_'? Sounds like a winner."

"It is actually very good." She managed a weak smile and took one last look at McGee. "I will see you later, Tim. Goodbye, Tony."

Before he could respond, she dragged Palmer through the door and they both hurried towards the exit

XXX

McGee was only vaguely aware of the activity around him. He had recognized the voices and even a few of the faces in the rare moments when he had built up enough strength to open his eyes. He could tell that they were worried, and in his mind he pleaded with them to help him, to break the grip of whatever was dragging him down into eventual oblivion.

He tried to stay awake, to focus on the people he knew were there, but he was just so _tired._

Eventually, after fighting as hard as he could, he lost his grip on the last threads of consciousness. The last thing he heard was a soft, whispering voice which spoke only one word.

_Mine…_

XXX

* * *

A/N: _Still Life With Crows_ is a real book, by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. It really is good, but a strong stomach is required. Trust me.

One more chapter to go.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: **By the Pricking of My Thumbs**, Part 3

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda

Maybe the third time uploading this will be the charm *grumble*

* * *

_Holy men tell us life is a mystery_

_They embrace that concept happily_

_But some mysteries bite and bark_

_And come to get you in the dark._

_Book of Counted Sorrows_

_Saturday_

Of all the things he had seen in his lifetime, both natural and supernatural, Jimmy reflected, nothing terrified him nearly as badly as riding shotgun with Ziva at the wheel. The trip to their destination would have normally taken him an hour, and when they arrived just thirty-five minutes after leaving the hospital, it took him nearly a minute to convince his fingers to let go of the dashboard.

"This is the place?" Ziva asked, seemingly unaware of the effects of her unique interpretation of the traffic laws.

"Y-yes." He finally managed to open the door and stepped out. After a few moments, when his knees had stopped shaking, he started up the familiar walkway to the front door of an old but well-kept Cape Cod-style house.

"Who lives here?" Ziva asked. "Someone who can help us?"

"Well, yes, but that's not why we're here." He reached out and rang the doorbell. After nearly a minute of silence, footsteps could be heard within, and after another moment of silence the door swung open to reveal a dark-haired, hazel-eyed, middle aged woman wearing a plaid robe.

"Jimmy, what are you doing here this time of night? What's going on?"

"We need to use the library," he said, and her eyes widened.

"What happened? What did you-?" Suddenly she noticed Ziva and stopped.

"It's OK. This is Ziva. She knows. Please, Mom, we're in a hurry." He ignored the startled look Ziva shot his way. "It's bad."

She opened the door wider and stepped aside so they could enter the house. After closing the door she returned her attention to them. "_How_ bad, Jimmy?"

"I might need to go see Lou."

"Oh God…" She pressed a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, a determined expression could be seen in them. "OK, let's go." She headed down the hall and the followed her to a door near the kitchen, which she opened and led them down into the basement.

The old familiar smells of dust, vellum, and leather tickled Jimmy's nose as he stepped into his family's private library. The room was lined floor to ceiling with bookcases, some of which were overflowing. More books were stacked on a large desk near the center.

Jimmy noticed that Ziva was studying the room with wide eyes and barely hid a smile. He'd had the same reaction the first time he'd understood what this place meant. He quickly remembered why they were here and the smile vanished.

"Now, tell me what you saw." His mother used her "command" tone and he knew better to ignore it. He quickly explained McGee's deterioration and what he had seen through the disk. When he finished she shook her head. "I don't remember ever hearing about anything like that, but I have an idea where you might look." She walked to the case in the far corner of the room and removed two large volumes, which she laid on the desk in front of Ziva. "It definitely sounds like Lou's territory. I better get to work." After she had ascended the stairs and shut the door, Ziva turned to Jimmy.

"Work on what?"

"Payment."

"Wait. We have to _pay_-?"

"Just trust me. It will work out, but first we have to figure out what this thing actually is." He pulled another chairs up to the desk. "Let's get started." He sat down and opened one of the books, and after a brief hesitation, Ziva did the same.

XXX

_Sunday_

Jimmy heard the old grandfather clock upstairs strike midnight, and unconsciously he spoke one of his father's favorite quotes regarding the hour.

_"Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world."_

He caught Ziva's startled glance and flushed slightly. "Sorry. That…that won't actually happen, you know."

"Are you sure?" she asked with a slight smirk.

"Well, after what happened recently, I'm not that sure of anything any more." He closed the book he had been skimming with a sigh. "Except that there's nothing in this one. Any luck on your end?"

"Not yet." She went to the same shelf and scanned the books that resided there. "I will keep looking."

Jimmy grabbed a book from the stack on the desk and tried again. After a few moments, Ziva spoke.

"Why is it that you can see these things?"

Jimmy sighed. He had been dreading this discussion.

"It's a family trait. Some might call it a curse. Most of the people from both sides of the family have been able to see entities, and we've just accepted it. A lot of my ancestors made a point of studying what we can see and quite a few of the books here were written by them. It was more of a hobby for some, though."

"Is this your hobby?"

"No, not really. I decided to follow my mother's advice and focus on more normal things."

"What about your father?"

Jimmy felt a twinge in his gut, a reminder of the negative aspect of his family's ability.

"My father made it his profession. He was a folklorist, at least officially. He researched origins and tracks of legends, and taught the process to anthropology majors. He was a professor at a private college for fifteen years. He left, though, when I was five years old."

"May I ask what happened?"

"He…he let it slip that he didn't believe the stories he researched were just legends. His colleagues decided that he was unstable and managed to get his tenure withdrawn. He didn't really trust anyone after that, especially Normals…er, sorry. Regular people who can't see what we see."

"Is that why you did not tell anyone about this before?"

"Pretty much." He ducked his head in embarrassment and continued reading.

"I am sorry."

"Not your fault. It's…nice to have someone to tell about this, someone who believes me. Then again you didn't get much choice." He shut the book with a snap. "Nothing here, either."

"Then I guess we keep reading."

"Right."

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah?

"Where is your father now? What kind of work does he do? Could he-?"

"He's gone. Car accident, back before I started at NCIS."

"Again, I am sorry."

"Thanks, Ziva." He went over to another case, scanned the titles, and pulled out another book. He had to find the answer. He _had_ to.

XXX

Three hours later, just when he was about to throw the book he was reading across the room in disgust, he heard Ziva gasp and looked up.

"What's wrong?"

She turned the book she was reading to face him and showed him the drawing that had caused her reaction. He shuddered inwardly as he caught sight of the creature depicted, sickeningly familiar. He took the book from Ziva and started to scan the page as she moved behind him to read over his shoulder.

"This is definitely what I saw. A bodarach. 'A shadow spirit, parasitic in nature. They lie dormant in abandoned dwellings after being unintentionally summoned during one of several negative energy rituals. Once awakened by an act of violence they latch on to an unsuspecting victim, draining their _anima_.' Er, that's…life force_._"

"So this…bodarach: it was in that house, because…?"

"Some kids probably tried a little dark spell work, just for kicks, or trying to be rebellious and didn't realize what they called up. It was woken up by the murder and then it was just waiting for-."

"-someone to come to it. And McGee did." Ziva swore in Hebrew. "Now what?"

He skimmed the next few pages but there wasn't anything else of use. "I guess we go see Lou."

Before she could respond, Ziva's cell phone rang and she hurriedly answered it.

"Yes? No, I…" She listened and her eyes widened in alarm. "I understand. I will be there as soon as I can. No, I am not at home. It is… I am on my way." She closed the phone with a snap and looked up at Palmer, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

"That was Tony. He said McGee stopped breathing and they had to put him on a ventilator. He is in a coma, and…they do not think he will last much longer." She took a deep breath. "How far away is Lou?"

"About twenty minutes, headed back towards D.C. Mom should have the payment ready. Let's go."

They ran up the stairs and Jimmy's mother came out of the kitchen just as they opened the door. One look at their faces and she hurried back into the kitchen, only to emerge a few moments later with a box.

"Thanks, Mom," he said as he carefully took it from her, ignoring Ziva's questioning look.

"Good luck. Don't let Lou give you any crap, either."

"I won't."

He followed Ziva out the door and to her car, where he climbed it, buckled in and, as she peeled away from the curb, held on to the box for dear life.

XXX

Ziva pulled up in front of the house and couldn't help but stare in surprise. She had expected something more…gothic, befitting of someone who made a habit of destroying supernatural things. Instead she found herself in front of a neat white farmhouse, well tended, with a welcoming porch light next to the oddly ornate front door.

"Protection symbols," said Jimmy in a slightly strained voice.

"What?"

"On the door. I saw you looking at them. They're there to keep things out. Lou can be just a little paranoid."

"Great."

They both climbed out of the car and started up the front walkway. Ziva saw more strange symbols worked into the path and felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She hated not knowing what they were walking into but there was nothing she could do about it.

Jimmy rang the doorbell and stepped back. After several moments, the door opened to reveal a rather striking woman, casually dressed in jeans and a sweater. Her silver streaked auburn hair was caught up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and dark brown eyes peered at them from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Suddenly she smiled, revealing perfect white teeth.

"Jimmy Palmer, as I live and breathe! What brings you by…at this unusual hour?"

"Hi, Lou. I, uh. I need your help. We need your help."

Her eyes locked on Ziva for a few seconds. "You must be desperate. You brought a Normal with you."

"We are," broke in Ziva. "Our friend is dying and we need to stop it."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place? Come on in." She opened the door and let them pass through before shutting it behind them. They stepped into the front room and stopped. The interior of the house was as tidy and normal as the exterior.

When the reached the living room, Jimmy held out the box and Lou took it with a grin. "Thank your mom for me, Jimmy. I'll go put this away. Make yourselves comfortable." She disappeared through another door and Ziva turned to Jimmy.

"She is going to help? How?"

"You remember how I said my family spent time learning about supernatural entities? Lou's family spent their time learning, too, but they focused on how to get rid of them. If there's a way to kill this thing, she'll know."

"I hope so. We…and Tim, do not have much time left."

"I know, I know. Just bear with us for a few minutes."

Lou returned carrying a tray loaded with three mugs and a plate full of thin slices of cake, which she set on the coffee table. She noticed Ziva's stare and shrugged.

"Seemed impolite not to share. One of these days I'm going to convince your mother to give me the recipe, Jimmy. Now, what is causing the problem?"

"A bodarach."

Lou frowned. "Nasty buggers. Haven't heard of any being around for quite awhile. Where did your friend pick it up?"

"One of our crime scenes."

She nodded, thoughtfully. "I'm a little worried of how it got there in the first place, but no matter. We'll take care of it."

Ziva felt a flood of relief. "You'll be able to kill it? Get it away from McGee?"

"No, but you two will. I'll just provide the means. How long has it been with him?"

"Since Thursday."

Lou made a face. "Poor man. Well, I better get started. Sit back, take a break. I'll be as

quick as I can."

"Wait." Lou turned and gave Ziva a questioning look. "I want to help." Lou continued to stare at her for a brief moment before nodding.

"All right, follow me." Jimmy rose from the sofa and she held up a hand. "Not you, Jimmy. I still remember the last time you 'helped'."

"That was an accident…"

"Yes, I know. Just sit tight, we'll be back soon."

Jimmy sat back down and Ziva followed the woman up the stairs to the second floor. The entire second floor was open, and the walls were lined with bookcases, cabinets, and hooks holding a variety of objects that Ziva couldn't even begin to identify. Lou went to one of the shelves which held a series of leather-bound volumes which reminded Ziva of encyclopedias. Lou removed one from the shelf, opened it, flipped through a few pages and handed it to Ziva.

"Read that list for me, will you? I'll start getting the stuff you need together."

"Why wouldn't you let Jimmy help?" asked Ziva as she read the first item: black salt.

"Jimmy's a sweet boy, but he's a bit of a klutz, especially around me. I guess I make him nervous." She grinned and started to search through one of the cabinets. She brought out a glass vial and set it on one of the tables. "Next?"

Ziva read through the next few items on the list and watched Lou move about the room, finding each item with ease. She obviously understood the cataloging system at work, even if her assistant didn't. Finally Ziva decided to ask another question.

"People pay you to help them?"

"Not usually, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Or at least that's what people seem to think. I'm not complaining, though. It takes care of expenses, at least."

"But…Jimmy's mother paid you with cake? Is this a normal payment?"

Lou chuckled. "Only for his family. Evelyn Palmer's butter pecan cake is worth its weight in gold."

"I will take your word for it." She thought for a moment. "You seemed ready for us. I hadn't expected anyone to be awake at this hour."

"Just got off work. I'd normally be awake all night anyway, since the things I deal with are out and about then. What's next?"

Ziva continued down the list. When she reached the last item, she had another question.

"How did you know that I am not like Jimmy?"

"Well, you - Normals, that is - you looks slightly different than we do. To us."

"I see. People like you, how many are there?"

"Not too many. Only a few family lines have the talent. Jimmy's family is probably one of the oldest, and they're responsible for a lot of the things we know. My family is probably responsible for the rest. Different goals, it's true, but we can usually cooperate." Lou uncovered the final item and pulled out a leather satchel before turning to Ziva.

"All done? Good. Put everything in this bag." Lou pulled out a piece of paper and held out her hand for the book. Ziva handed it over and Lou started to copy the information from the next page.

"Why do you do this?"

Lou smiled, but there was something behind that expression that Ziva understood. "Lots of reasons. Mainly because no one else is crazy enough to do it, and it needs to be done, as you have seen. And of course, I really couldn't do anything else. It's in my blood, you know." She took the bag from Ziva and headed towards the stairs, and after a brief hesitation Ziva followed.

Jimmy rose from the sofa as they entered the living room and Lou handed the bag to him.

"All set. Ready for your instructions?"

Jimmy blushed. "I…I'm sorry, I should write this down, but…"

Lou smiled and pulled the paper out of her pocket. "Not a problem, but I do want to walk you through it. You can't afford to make mistakes, you know. Now, getting the bodarachaway from your friend is just part of it. You'll need to take it back where it came from - to the crime scene - and destroy it. Only then will your friend get his anima back."

"Seems…simple enough."

Lou chuckled. "Beware the illusion of simplicity, my friend. It's doable, that's all I can say." She then began to explain exactly what it was they had to do.

Both Jimmy and Ziva listened carefully. When Lou had finished, Ziva sincerely hoped that they wouldn't mess it up. She would never forgive herself if they lost McGee.

XXX

Tony sat in the hard plastic chair next to McGee's hospital bed, staring at his friend and listening to the soft clicks and whirs of the equipment currently keeping him alive. He was alone with the younger man, as Gibbs had just left to take Abby and Ducky home. Tony wasn't sure what was worse: Abby's near hysteria, Ducky's agony in his belief that he had missed something, or Gibbs being at a complete loss. The last one he could understand himself. On the job, they expected to lose people, and had lost them, but it was usually due to something concrete: a gun, a knife, a bomb. It was terrible when it happened, and the pain it caused drove the agents to seek justice. What was happening to McGee was so much worse. There was no criminal to track down, no case to close, nothing on which to focus the anger and pain. Watching his friend wither away before his eyes was something Tony had never expected, and he really wished he didn't have to witness it now.

"Damn it, Tim. I really wish we knew what was going on so we could stop it. You know we would if we could, buddy."

The doctors continued to be baffled, and Abby hadn't discovered anything, although she had tried all of her tests at least twice. Tony had heard one of the med students comment about "maybe it's something we'll find at autopsy" and had barely kept himself from punching the man. He didn't want to think about that particular procedure being done to McGee. It wasn't right.

He pulled out his phone and debated calling Ziva again. He couldn't understand why she wasn't here, and had started to worry, especially light of what had happened to McGee. He was also angry. How dare she abandon their partner?

Suddenly he heard a noise behind him and turned to see the object of his concern. Ziva, followed by Jimmy and looking distinctly ruffled, rushed into the room and froze when her gaze fell on Tony. Anger quickly beat out worry as he rose to face her.

"Where in the hell have you been? McGee, he…you should have been here, damn it. I-."

"Tony, you may yell at me later. Right now we need you to leave. Please."

"What? Why?"

She growled in frustration and turned to Jimmy. "Give it to me. He needs to see. Otherwise we will get nowhere with him."

"See what?" He saw Jimmy remove something from his pocket and he handed it to Ziva, who in turn held it up for Tony to see.

"Look through this at me, and tell me what you see."

With an incredulous look, Tony took the flat metal disk and stared through the pane at Ziva. "Nothing. What does this have to do with-?"

"Now, look at McGee."

"What?"

"Just do it, Tony!"

He turned to look down at the silent figure on the bed, and froze, unbelieving: there was something sitting on McGee's right shoulder. Tony blinked and looked again, his jaw dropping at the sight in front of him.

The thing was clearer this time, and he really wished it wasn't. It was dark, almost black, with a long segmented tail the reached behind McGee and disappeared at his neck. It was walking back and forth across McGee's chest on six multi-segmented legs, each covered with rows of thin spikes. The thing's body was long and wedge-shaped, like a scorpion, and covered with fine dark hair. Its face, such as it was, had two large red eyes on stalks and a mouth with razor-like teeth. The most disturbing part of its appearance, however, was the fact that its two front limbs ended in small, perfectly-formed human hands. It paused to reach out and touch McGee's cheek with one of the hands, almost like a caress, which caused bile to rise in Tony's throat and he tore his gaze away to confront Ziva.

"What. In the hell. Is _THAT_?"

"A bodarach. It is what is killing McGee, and now we are going to kill it." She retrieved the disk from his hand. "We will be needing that."

"How…how did you…?"

"There is no _time_, Tony, now get out of our way. Please."

Unable to think of a response, other than to wonder if he had somehow wound up in the Twilight Zone, Tony backed away until he was up against the door. Jimmy reached up to pull the curtain to block McGee's bed from view, and Tony moved forward to the edge of the divider so he could see.

Jimmy took several vials out of the bag he had been carrying and handed one of them to Ziva. She opened it and dipped a finger into the clear liquid within, which she used to mark a circle on McGee's forehead. She then gently raised him up off the bed to expose the back of his neck and carefully poured the rest at the base of his neck. After laying him back on the bed, she gave the vial back to Jimmy, who had opened another and was sprinkling the contents over McGee's chest. Finally he took out a small concave mirror and a flat black rock, dripped the contents of a third and fourth vial on the centers of each before handing the rock to Ziva.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Jimmy nodded. "Here goes nothing."

As Tony watched, Jimmy held the mirror over McGee's face with one hand and the disk Ziva had retrieved from Tony in the other. He moved the disk up to his eye and took a deep breath before whispering something in a language Tony didn't recognize. Jimmy repeated the phrase over and over until suddenly Tony heard a soft, high-pitched shriek and Jimmy flinched, almost dropping the mirror as he pulled it away from McGee's face. Ziva immediately placed her hand with the rock on the center of her palm over McGee's heart and looked up at Jimmy with wide eyes.

"Did it work? Is it-?"

"Yep. Got the little bastard," he said with a grin. He caught Tony's gaze and blushed. "Sorry." He reached into the bag, took out a black metal box, and placed the mirror inside.

"Is that…is that it?" asked Tony, staring down at McGee.

"That was the first part. We got it to let go of him."

"So…he'll get better?"

"He won't get any worse, at least not for now." Jimmy picked up the back and headed for the door while Ziva remained, still holding the rock against McGee's chest.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To do the second part. Ziva has to stay here with McGee and make sure he can get his…vitality back when I release it from the bodarach."

"I'm going with you," he declared as he himself made the decision. "Never hurts to have a backup, and…" _I really can't watch McGee die._ He shook his head at his own perceived cowardice and faced Jimmy. "Let's go." He glanced at Ziva and she gave him a shaky smile.

"Good luck."

Tony took one last look at his friend and followed Jimmy, briefly wondering if this really was, as he sincerely hoped, all just a nightmare.

XXX

It was still dark when they reached the house, and it was even creepier than before, Jimmy mused. Or perhaps that had something to do with what they now knew had happened there. He climbed out of Tony's car and headed for the front door of the house, making it nearly to the porch before he noticed that Tony wasn't next to him. He turned around and saw that the older man still standing by the car, staring up at the house.

"Tony? Are you coming with me?"

"I…yeah, I'm coming." As soon as Tony reached him, Palmer continued up the steps and pushed open the front door, carefully ducking under the crime scene tape. He went straight to the basement stairs and opened the door before switching on his flashlight. He turned to see if Tony was still behind him and sighed. The man was clearly freaked out, and Jimmy had no idea what to say to help. He decided to just do what he needed to do and deal with the fallout later.

He descended the stairs and looked around, glad that bodarachs were solitary. He started to pull supplies out of his bag and lay them out on the dirt floor. He consulted the paper Lou had given him and got to work.

Tony reached the bottom of the stairs and just stood there, watching him and not saying a word. Jimmy suppressed a shudder. A silent DiNozzo was a worrisome thing indeed.

Finally, after completing the isolation sigil, he opened the box and removed the mirror, placing in the center.

"I sent him down here."

Startled, Jimmy turned and looked up at Tony. "What?"

"McGee. I sent him down here and-."

"—the bodarach latched on to him. It wasn't your fault, Tony. No one had any idea it was down here…not even me."

Tony stared at Jimmy for a moment. "Why would _you _know?"

"Long story. My point is, you didn't know what would happen. No one blames you, I promise." He took a deep breath. "Now let's get this over with." He stepped away from the mirror and pulled out the disk. He put it up to his eye and focused on the mirror before starting the second incantation that Lou had given him.

The mirror shimmered and suddenly the bodarach crawled out of it. Jimmy could hear it grumbling in a strange mix of English and another unknown language. He continued to chant and suddenly the ground started to tremble.

"Uh, Jimmy? Is that supposed to be happening?"

"Kind of doubt it." He resumed his chant and he could swear that the bodarach was grinning at him. He raised his voice and continued. The ceiling above them started to crack and Tony ducked.

"What the hell is going on, Palmer?"

"I don't know!" He consulted the piece of paper and grimaced. _Stupid!_ He ran over to the bag, grabbed one of the vials, and poured the contents out in a circle around the sigil. Suddenly the trembling stopped and the bodarach began to run in circles, shrieking. Palmer shouted the incantation one more time and as soon as he spit out the final word, the creature froze. Before he could even blink, a bright white cloud of light burst out of the bodarach and dove into the mirror. The creature let out one final horrendous shriek and exploded.

Jimmy waited, and after a few moments he breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Is that it?" Tony asked cautiously.

"I-." A loud creak was their only warning before a section of the ceiling started to cave in. Palmer felt a hand on his arm just before he was pulled out of the way when the ceiling came down, crushing the mirror in its path.

"Looks like that's our cue to leave," said Tony.

"Yeah…" Tony helped him to quickly gather the supplies and stuff them back in the bag before they ran up the steps and out of the house. They reached the car and turned around just in time to see the house collapse completely.

"Whoa…"

Jimmy stared in shock, which soon gave way to relief. Trying to cover his own anxiety, he turned to Tony with an expectant look, only to be greeted by silence.

"What, no movie reference?" he asked in a shaky voice.

Tony shook his head. "Not this time, Palmer. Come on. Let's get the hell out of here."

XXX

Ziva sat with her hand on McGee's chest and waited, praying that the plan would work. McGee did not appear to be getting any worse, as Lou had promised, but she was worried that the strain of what had happened would still be too much for him. She kept a careful eye on the machines, but they registered no change, and she started to wonder if Jimmy had managed to finish the spell.

Suddenly, she felt the rock get warm and she saw a white glow under her hand, which vanished almost as soon as it appeared. She looked up and studied McGee's face, but there was no change. She sighed and laid her head on his chest, over her hand. After all of this, she didn't want to consider the possibility that Jimmy had failed.

A soft groan startled and she looked up to see that McGee's eyes were wide open and full of panic. The beeping of the heart monitor sped up and he started to gasp, fighting against the tube in his throat.

"McGee! Calm down. You will be all right. Just stay calm. Please…"

The room was soon filled with doctors and nurses and Ziva felt herself being pushed out into the hallway. She tried to protest but stopped when the door closed in front of her. All she could do was watch the activity in McGee's room, and she had almost made up her mind to force her way back in when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Gibbs staring at her, a worried expression on his face.

"What happened? Is he…?"

"He…woke up." Gibbs' eyebrows shot up in surprise and he started for the door, only to be met by the head nurse. She held up her hands before either of them could ask a question.

"Agent McGee has regained consciousness and is able to breathe on his own. We…we have no idea how, or why, but he seems to be getting better."

Ziva and Gibbs both sagged in relief and the nurse continued. "He's still very weak, but we believe that will pass. He's one lucky man."

"May we see him?"

"As soon as the doctors finish, you may go in. Don't stay too long though, OK?"

They leaned against the wall to wait and neither spoke. Finally the doctors and nurses left McGee's room and were quickly replaced by Ziva and Gibbs. They moved to either side of the bed and gazed down at McGee. His eyes were closed and he still looked bad, but at least he was just pale instead of grey.

"Tim?" said Gibbs, and McGee's eyes opened slowly. He stared at the older man for a few minutes before responding, although his voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Boss? What…what happened…to me?"

"We don't know, Tim. The important thing is that you're going to be OK."

"You don't…know?" His eyes tracked to Ziva and she averted her gaze. She had no idea how to explain everything that happened.

"It is a mystery," she replied. "The doctors had no idea, but it seems to have worked itself up."

"Out…"

"Yes, that too. How are you feeling?" she asked quickly.

"Tired. Throat hurts. Neck…sore."

"Yeah, a ventilator will do that." Gibbs put a hand on McGee's shoulder. "Get some rest, Tim."

"OK…Boss. Ziva?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"For what, McGee?" He didn't respond and she realized he was asleep. "You are welcome," she whispered, gently patted his cheek and followed Gibbs back out into the hall.

"I'm going to go call Abby and Ducky. Go home and get some sleep, Ziva."

"I will call Tony and Jimmy. I'm sure they…have been worried, too." Gibbs gave her a half-smirk and left.

Instead of leaving, she went back to McGee's room and sank into the chair next to his bed. She still had some lingering anxiety when she saw his still, pale form, but she was able to assure herself that he would, eventually, be OK. She just hoped it would be sooner than later.

XXX

The drive back to Bethesda was unnaturally quiet. When they arrived, Jimmy was surprised to see a familiar figure waiting near the front doors. He grabbed the bag from the back seat and carried it over to its owner.

"Hey, Lou. What are you doing here?"

"Just coming by to check on you and your friends. Looks like you did it, kiddo." She smiled at him and ruffled his hair, only to draw her hand back and look at it with first disgust and then mild amusement.

"Forgot the yarrow root oil, didn't you?"

"I remembered in time."

She chuckled. "Good. Might make a decent exorcist out of you yet. You did good, kid."

"Thanks. Do you want to come with us? Ziva will want to thank you, I'm sure."

Lou smiled, but there was a touch of sadness in her expression.

"I don't really belong, Jimmy. It's OK. See you next time." She took the bag from him, and, seeing Tony's startled expression, winked and walked off.

"Who-?"

"Another long story. Come on, let's go check on McGee."

They reached Tim's room and found Ziva asleep in the chair, her head resting on McGee's bed. Tony noticed immediately that McGee was looking much better and breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced at Palmer and saw a smile on the other man's face, a smile that disappeared as soon as he noticed Tony's gaze. Just as Palmer turned to leave, Tony caught his arm.

"Wait." He led Palmer out to the hall. "Thanks, Jimmy. I have no idea what this all was, but I do know you saved Tim. So thank you."

"You're welcome, Tony. No…no problem."

"Oh, I highly _doubt_ that," he said with a shudder, "but important thing is, you _did_ do it. Like Lou said, you did good."

"Thanks. But what about…?"

"The mumbo jumbo, the scorpion-thing from Hell, and the mysterious 'Lou'? Well, for that…" Tony grinned. "You've got some 'splaining to do. But I promise I'll keep an open mind. I think I'll have to." He clapped Palmer on the back and headed back to McGee's room.

Jimmy watched the scene before him and grinned as something became clear: these were, for better or worse, his friends.

As for the explanation, for the first time in his life he really didn't think he would mind. Maybe his secret wasn't such a bad thing after all

* * *

A/N: Jimmy quotes _Hamlet, Act III, Scene ii_

The bodarach and the rituals to get rid of it are my invention. Take that as you will.

The Epilogue is on its way.


	4. Epilogue

Title: By the Pricking of My Thumbs, Epilogue

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda

* * *

_Hope requires the contender  
Who sees no virtue in surrender  
From the cradle to the bier  
The heart must persevere._

_Book of Counted Joys_

_Monday_

A soft rumble of familiar voices pulled Tim McGee from the depths of his slumber and he slowly opened his eyes. He was rewarded with a cry of surprise.

"Timmy!"

"Hi Abby." He felt himself pulled into a tight embrace and groaned before he was quickly released.

"Sorry, sorry. I…we were all so worried about you, Tim. You have no idea-."

"I think I might," he said with a weak smile. "How long have I been here?"

"Two days. You were asleep all day yesterday," replied Ducky as he stepped into Tim's line of sight.

"Feels like it was longer."

"I'm sure it does," said Gibbs as he stepped up next to Abby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm…not sure. A little stiff, I guess. Wrung out." He tired to remember the last time he had seen Gibbs. "You…don't know what happened to me, right?"

"I'm afraid not, Timothy," replied Ducky. "And I am terribly sorry that you had to go through such a terrible experience, but at least now you are finally on the mend. I just wish that I had noticed sooner that something was wrong."

Tim heard the guilt in Ducky's voice and shook his head. "Not your fault, Ducky." The M.E. merely nodded, but he still appeared unconvinced.

"The doctors are still going over your test results, and they still haven't found anything. You are a genuine medical mystery, McGee," said Abby. "I can't wait to get you back to my lab and-."

"Abby."

"What, Gibbs? You mean you don't want to know? What if it happens again? What if-?"

"Don't think it will, Abbs. C'mon. We need to get back to the office." He patted Tim's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, McGee."

"Thanks, Boss, I'll try."

"I need to go as well, Timothy, but I'm sure I will be back later this evening."

"Thanks, Ducky, for everything."

The trio left and Tim turned his attention to the remaining people in the room.

"You guys OK?"

Tony managed a dry chuckle. "Yeah, Probie, we're fine."

"So you want to tell me what actually happened?"

"We…do not think you will believe us, McGee."

"Yeah. It's kind of…weird," said Jimmy, unable to meet Tim's gaze.

"You mean, weird like some creature latching on to me and sucking my energy?"

Their reaction almost made Tim laugh. Three sets of eyes suddenly widened and met his own.

"You…how did you…?"

"Kind of hard not to notice, Tony. Especially after it got so strong I couldn't stay awake." Tim grimaced. "And really hard not to notice when you made it let me go."

"Oh, God…you felt that?" asked Jimmy. He looked like he might be sick.

"Yeah, but even before that I was aware of it, even though I couldn't do anything. It was…talking to me, in my head." He shuddered at the memory. "It told me I belonged to…it."

"Damn, Probie..."

"So what _was_ it? And how did _you_ all know enough about it to get rid of it?"

The three glanced at each other and after a brief but silent conversation, Jimmy started to speak.

When he finished, Tim could only stare in shock, and was only able to respond after a few tense moments of silence.

"So it was just…bad luck? We're not going to find these bodarachs everywhere there has been a murder, right?"

"Doubtful," said Jimmy, who still looked worried about McGee's expected response.

"Good." He stared at the still too tenses faces and smiled. "Thanks, guys. All of you, but especially you, Jimmy. Thank you." That elicited a genuine smile from Jimmy and Tim felt his chest loosen just a little.

"McGee…"

Tim looked up at Tony and saw the guilt painted across his partner's face.

"I know, Tony. You didn't mean for anything to happen. I don't blame you…but next time?"

"Yeah?"

"You can search the creepy basement."

Tony grinned. "You got it, Probie."

"You should rest, McGee," said Ziva. "We will be back tonight." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "It's good to have you back."

"Thanks, Ziva."

She and Jimmy left, but Tony lingered.

"Tony? Something wrong?"

He laughed softly. "No, not anymore, Tim. But do me a favor? Don't ever do anything like this again, OK?"

"Not really planning on it."

Tony's face sobered. "Seriously, man. I…I mean, you were _dying_. I don't ever want to see that, OK? So take care of yourself, and I promise I'll have your six."

"You usually do, Tony."

"Only usually?"

"Don't push it," Tim said, and grinned.

"You got it. Oh, and Probie?"

"Yeah?"

"You still owe me a game."

Tim chuckled as Tony waved and left the room. He leaned back against his pillow and sighed. It was good to be on the way back to normal.

XXX

Dr. Abernathy sat at his desk, studying the records from his most puzzling and frustrating case to date. He could not, for the life of him, understand what had happened with Timothy McGee. The man had been healthy, then near death, then on the way to recovery, all within a couple of days. It made absolutely _no_ sense…

A soft knock on his door roused him from his abstraction and he looked up to see an unfamiliar woman in hospital scrubs standing in the door way.

"Yes?"

"I have the most recent results from Mr. McGee." She stepped forward and handed them too him. He scanned them and started in surprise. "Why didn't we see this before?"

"I don't know, sir."

He sighed in relief. This might very well explain McGee's case, but why had it taken so long to find it? He would have to investigate, but for now, and for at least one set of worries, his mind could be at ease.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, but I haven't seen you around here before, Nurse…?"

"Ryder." She smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. "But you can just call me Lou."

XXX

Jimmy walked into autopsy, expecting to be scolded for being late, and was surprised to find that Ducky was still dressed in his street clothes and was sitting in front of his computer, typing slowly.

"Doctor Mallard? What's going on?"

"I am working on the form to initiate my retirement," said Ducky, not bothering to turn around.

"You're retiring? Why?"

"I am afraid that I am no longer as mentally acute as I should be, Mr. Palmer. It's time I left before I cause any permanent damage."

Jimmy's heart sank. "This is because of McGee's…illness, isn't it? It's not your fault, Doctor Mallard. There's no way you could have known what was wrong."

"And how can you be sure of that, Mr. Palmer?"

Jimmy slowly reached into his pocket and touched the disk that he now carried with him everywhere. Could he…?

He glanced over towards the corner of autopsy, to the resident that _he_ had been able to see since his first day, yet no one else could. A presence so familiar that he had almost taken it for granted. The presence, an older man in a Naval Officer's uniform, returned his gaze, then glanced toward Ducky, and nodded.

Jimmy steeled himself for what was to come. It was time to save someone else.

"Doctor Mallard?"

"Yes, Mr. Palmer?"

"There is something I need to show you…"

XXX

Max Griffen surveyed the house site with a feeling of disgusted amazement. How was it that a one-hundred year old, solidly built house had suddenly fallen in on itself with absolutely no warning? He was going to kill the housing inspector. If he could find him.

He made his way over toward what was left of the house and looked down into the basement, or what was left of it. Amazingly enough, the stairs were still in place and, after testing them, he descended to take a closer look. He had only descended a few steps when he heard someone call him.

"_Max? Where are you?"_

He sighed. It was that worthless building inspector; time to give the man a piece of his mind.

"Coming, Rick," he yelled and started to turn when he felt something gently brush his cheek, almost like the caress of a lover. He flinched back and ran up the steps, away from the place that had suddenly given him a rabid case of the creeping heebie jeebies, as his father would say. When he reached the top of the steps, he was so focused on leaving that he didn't even register the sound of a soft voice, barely a whisper in the wind, that only spoke one word:

_Mine…_

THE END

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to Sergeant Conley for giving me the inspiration for this story. I hope it was worth the wait ;D


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